Prisoner
by metallover
Summary: After nearly eight thousand years of languishing in solitude and being ignored by his captors, the Betrayer Illidan is assigned a new Watcher to stand vigil over him. The game is afoot; how far can he push her before she breaks? A quick one-shot about Illidan's time in captivity before Warcraft 3.


**Author's Note**

**(DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters, places or anything else; they remain property of Activision-Blizzard and all related subsidiaries. This is a work of fanfiction and love: please don't sue me.)**

**I don't really have much to say about this one. The idea just kinda popped into my head, so I'm rolling with it. I felt that Illidan's story and the tragedy surrounding it is underappreciated by the WoW fandom and he's looked on as just another crazy psychopath boss at the end of a dungeon. So I thought 'what the hell', here's a little one-shot starring my favourite crazy-psychopath-boss-from-the-end-of-a-dungeon, based before Warcraft 3. **

**This may eventually become something more a little later on; maybe a series of one-shots? Depends on how bored I get over Christmas. **

**Read, review and enjoy.**

* * *

Illidan was cold. Not that his jailers would do anything about it; they had it in their mind that he was to suffer for the gift he had bestowed them.

How long had it been since he had seen the moonlight? How long had he sat in darkness, rattling his chains and waiting for his next meal?

Not that he could 'see' the moonlight; not in the traditional sense. His demonic eyes of magical smoke and flames, hidden by a dirty black scarf, could see just better than his old mortal eyes, but not in the same way. Just the thought of moonlight on his dark violet skin again made him quiver with longing, though.

Illidan's long, pointed ears twitched beneath a mop of filthy black hair, stretching down past his waist as a door opened somewhere above him.

Would they ever cut his hair again, he wondered? It had been decades since his self-proclaimed warden, Maiev Shadowsong, had come in and roughly hacked at the hair that had grown down past his knees, taking the locks to be burned so he could not magically use them to escape.

Never mind that the wards carved into the cage's bars and his very flesh prevented him from casting any spells. Those few he had desperately tried in his first few centuries of confinement had caused him so much pain he had blacked out.

Illidan's ears twitched again as a new set of footsteps approached his cage for the first time in centuries.

His voice was raspy with disuse, but he cleared it as the young elf drew close.

"New girl," he said; it wasn't a question.

The new warden simply placed the tray bearing his simple meal on the ground and slid it towards him, before leaving.

_That's fine_, Illidan thought, feeling excitement for the first time in millennia as he strained at his chains, stretching forward to lap at the thin soup they insisted on serving him. _I can wait. I have all the time in the world right now._

* * *

The next few months continued in much the same way; the girl would come in, Illidan would greet her, and she would silently place his tray down before leaving again.

A few times Illidan's keen senses had led him to think that he had heard her about to say something before the words died in her throat, but he put it off as wishful thinking.

Still, she was young compared to the other watchers and it had been nearly ten thousand years since someone had actually spoken to him.

The next day she arrived as usual, but Illidan opted for a different approach.

"How old are you, girl?" he asked in way of greeting.

She actually hesitated before striding off this time, and Illidan allowed himself a thin smile.

He had her.

The next day she came as usual, and Illidan opted to remain silent. She had eyed him suspiciously before leaving, but it was all part of his plan.

The next few weeks passed much the same way, Illidan letting her think she had defeated him, until nearly two years to the day she had first arrived, Illidan spoke again.

"I've been remiss," he rasped in his broken, unused voice. "All this time I've been rudely trying to engage you in conversation without properly introducing myself."

He bowed low in his chains as she placed the tray on the ground.

"I am Illidan Stormrage, and I would ask the name of my warden."

The girl hesitated again, before finally relenting.

"Sayowen," she replied, before quickly walking away.

Illidan waited until he was sure she was gone before allowing himself a smile, his first smile in thousands of years. He had won. Someone had finally spoken to him again. Maiev would kill the girl if she found out, but it didn't matter because Illidan had finally beaten her system.

_Someone had spoken to him._

* * *

The next few months passed in silence again as every day Sayowen returned, and Illidan had to resist the urge to grin as he heard her feet walking down the stairs; light and lithe, like a true Sentinel.

"You have the gait of a Sentinel," he said to her after nearly a year as she approached the cage.

"Why are you here guarding my imprisonment rather than protecting our people?"

Illidan's tray clattered to the floor with more force than usual.

"Silence, betrayer," Sayowen growled as she exited.

Illidan allowed himself a low chuckle. He had really gotten under the girl's skin, and he revelled in it.

As he leaned forward for his soup he found that it had been knocked over and spilled onto his tray. No matter, he thought, bending lower. He had licked the soup from the stones of his cell before.

* * *

Illidan chose to return to silence for a few months after that, letting Sayowen get used to the idea that he was, indeed, a living being that could talk and attempt to make conversation.

Finally, nearly three years after her arrival, Illidan spoke again.

He had been so looking forward to this question. He had played it over and over in his mind while waiting for the right opportunity. This day simply felt… _right_.

"Why do you hate me?" he asked in a neutral tone as the girl Sayowen approached.

Illidan finally looked up at her, for the first time since she had been feeding him.

The look on her face was the most priceless treasure he had received since the gift of his demonic eyes almost eight thousand years ago now.

Her eyes were wide; her mouth hung open, shocked, her perfect lips parted a little as she tried to figure out an answer to his unexpected question. Her ears even twitched a little in consternation.

_Perfection_, Illidan allowed himself to think, hanging his head again to hide his smile.

_Absolute perfection._

The tray clattered to the ground, her hurried footsteps fading into the distance as she raced up the staircase back to the safety of the watch house above him.

He had broken her. In five sentances he had broken the girl.

Illidan laughed. He laughed like he hadn't in years; he laughed until if he had still had tear glands he would have wept. The sounds of his mirth echoed around him, soaking into the stonework as his body heaved with motion long forgotten.

The next day a new, unfamiliar set of feet brought him his meal.

Illidan grinned again under his shaggy black mane.

He had won. Now the game began anew.


End file.
